by Francis Ray
Dillon waved the words aside. “I put on my pants the same as you do.”
The men shared a smile. Zachary explained, “A mutual friend of ours said the same thing when my wife met his fiancée. Only it was panty hose.”
“Your wife is…?”
“Madison Reed. She’s the one who brought your accomplishment to my attention. I called Nathan and asked for the introduction for Cade.”
“I’ve heard of her. She’s one of the few live programs my mother allows on the TV at our garage in Elms Fork.”
“Please thank your mother,” Zachary said. “I’ll be sure and tell Madison.”
“Was there a reason you wanted to see me so quickly?” Dillon asked.
Zachary slapped Cade on the back. “Cade recently became engaged and needs to enjoy that toy of his before he has to park it. I drive a truck with a booster cab.”
“He has two adorable children,” Cade explained. “And I won’t mind parking it one bit.” He nodded toward Dillon’s Ferrari. “Nice.”
“Thanks. I was admiring yours.” Dillon walked over and unlatched the hood.
“Looks good, but it’s sluggish.” Cade peered under the hood with the other men. “Traffic is too crazy for me not to be able to accelerate.”
“Not to mention embarrassing.” Dillon laughed, and the men laughed with him. They were easy to talk with and friendly. Lots of his clients were stuck-up. “Start her up.”
Cade got inside, started the motor, then rolled down the window. “Rev the motor a couple of times,” Dillon instructed.
The car rumbled, but it wasn’t smooth. Dillon flicked his wrist, indicating to cut the engine. “I think it’s spark plugs, but I won’t be sure until I put it through a full analysis. You can make an appointment and bring it in next week, if that’s all right.”
“Will you be working on it or one of your trained mechanics?”
“I will.” Dillon slammed the hood. “Don’t worry. We’ll take care of your car.”
“If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t be here.” Cade stared at the car for a moment. “Another reason I want it at peak performance is that my fiancée has been hinting that she wants to drive it.”
“Madison was the same way about my truck after we became engaged.” Zachary chuckled. “What is it about driving your man’s car?”
“My guess would be that they want to know that everything we own is now theirs, even our prized automobiles.” Cade turned to Dillon. “What do you think?”
“Probably, and that’s why I’ve never handed over my keys,” Dillon said. “Nobody drives my cars but me.”
“You’re obviously single and not ‘seriously dating,’ as they say these days,” Zachary said.
Dillon shrugged. “I’m too busy for anything serious.”
“I sometimes have twelve-hour days, but when I go home there’s Madison and our two kids. They make the long day, all the problems associated with building homes, fall away.”
“The same with Sabrina, my fiancée,” Cade explained. “She pushed her way into my life, but I’d be lost without her.” He briefly clasped Dillon on the shoulder. “One day I hope you know what it feels like to have a woman who loves you waiting at the end of a long, hard day. You won’t even mind her driving your car.”
Dillon wasn’t sure about Sam driving his car, but he did want her in his life. For how long, he wasn’t sure.
Charlie, Dillon’s office manager, stuck his head out the door. “Dillon, phone.”
“Is it Mama?”
“No, it’s the woman who messed up the Ferrari.”
Dillon rolled his eyes. “Surely she didn’t try to drive the car again and screw up the gears.”
Charlie nodded. “She’s hysterical.”
“Tell her I’ll be there in a minute.” Dillon turned to Cade and Zachary. “Unlike the women in your lives, the customer on the phone would rather sneak and drive her husband’s car when he’s out of town.”
“That’s a marriage headed for disaster,” Zachary said. “You can’t build anything solid without trust, and that works both ways.”
“My mother said the same thing,” Dillon told them.
“Smart woman. We’ll let you go.” Cade stuck out his hand again. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
“Since Sabrina has never driven a stick, that might be sooner than you imagine,” Zachary kidded.
“Just so she’s safe. I can replace the car, but not Sabrina.” Cade turned to the car, then looked back. “We’re going to dinner later with another couple. Would you like to join us? You can bring a date, of course.”
Dillon immediately thought of Sam. She needed more friends. “I’ll take a rain check. Good-bye.”
“I’ll see you when I bring the car back in.” The car rumbled to life. “Thanks again.” Cade pulled out of the parking space and hit the streets.
“Dillon. Please,” Charlie said, his face and voice frantic.
“Coming.” Dillon started toward the office, his thoughts on what Zachary had said about not being able to build anything without trust. He and Sam might trust each other, but they saw things differently and were headed in different directions. Yet even knowing all that, he still wanted her.
* * *
“Dillon looked even more like A. J. Reed in person than he did in the pictures Madison showed us,” Zachary said. “It’s a good thing she saw the interview in the newspaper.”
“He might be the spitting image of A. J., but thank goodness he’s the opposite in personality.” Cade checked the mirror and took the ramp to the freeway. “He didn’t have a BS meter that was off the charts. I liked him.”
“Same here.” Zachary turned in his seat to stare at Cade. “He might be our brother.”
Our brother. The two words resonated through Cade. They had different mothers, but the same arrogant man for their father, A. J. Reed. Cade had discovered his brother, Zachary, only six weeks ago. The thought of finding another brother was scary and exciting at the same time. “According to the report from the private investigator I hired, it’s rumored in his hometown that he was the son of Abe Collins. Collins died recently, and now Dillon works for the company as a consultant.”
“We have to assume that he might not know who his father is. He didn’t react when I mentioned Madison’s professional last name.”
“A. J. Reed didn’t stick around after the woman became pregnant,” Cade said, the words coated with bitterness. “His mother raised Dillon alone.”
“Looks like we’ll have to contact her first. Neither one of us wants to cause her any embarrassment or discomfort,” Zachary said.
“No. A. J. put our mothers through enough misery to last a lifetime.” Cade shifted gears and passed a slow-moving car. “We’ll see how my meeting with him goes when I bring back the car, then we’ll take it from there. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
Sixteen
Samantha pulled up behind Roman’s car in Marlene’s driveway and got out. It was barely five. Looked like he was anxious to see Marlene again. She was glad someone’s romance was going well. She opened the gate to the backyard, rounded the corner of the house, and came to an abrupt stop.
Roman and Marlene were standing just outside the back door, his arm around her waist, hers looped around his neck, their mouths inches apart. Obviously Marlene was no longer unsure about dating Roman. Good for her. Roman was a great guy.
Samantha turned to leave. Three was definitely a crowd.
“Hi, Samantha,” Marlene said, her voice a bit breathless.
“Hi, Samantha,” Roman said, his strained.
Samantha turned to see Marlene in front of the grill. Next to her Roman held a platter of skewered vegetables.
“Hi,” Samantha greeted, slowly approaching. She didn’t want to embarrass them. “Smells good.”
“We should eat in about ten minutes.” Marlene closed the lid of the grill, her gaze sweeping over Samantha. “Wine or raspberry lemonade?”
> “Wine, definitely.”
“I’ll get it.” Roman touched Marlene’s shoulder as he passed.
“We didn’t mean to embarrass you,” Marlene said when Roman closed the back door.
“You didn’t.” Samantha smiled. “I’m happy for you.”
“It took me a while, but so am I.” Marlene waved Samantha to a seat at the round glass-topped table.
“Here you go.” Roman came back with a glass of wine for Samantha and raspberry lemonade for Marlene. “I’ll start taking things to the flower bed.”
“Thanks, Roman.”
“Good practice for Saturday.” He dipped a kiss on her head, then headed around the side of the house toward the garage.
“If I might ask, what’s happening on Saturday?” Samantha sipped her wine.
“I’m helping Roman landscape his house,” Marlene told her. “From the pictures he showed me yesterday, it’s badly needed.”
Samantha glanced around the backyard with its colorful flower beds of azaleas, geraniums, and daisies. “You certainly have the talent. Your home and yard are spectacular.”
“Thanks to Dillon.” Marlene picked up her glass. “He had this house built for me, indulged me with the extensive flower beds although he can’t stand yard work. I couldn’t ask for a better son.”
“Without him, there is no way I would have made it this far,” Samantha said. “We certainly wouldn’t have gotten the press or be in the process for a new design.”
“But you wanted more,” Marlene said softly.
Samantha opened her mouth to deny it, then slumped back in her seat. “He’s giving all he can.”
“Knowing that doesn’t help ease the loneliness your heart feels.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Samantha admitted.
“I came to Elms Fork because I thought it sounded quaint, and I’d always heard that small towns were almost like a big family where everyone worked together to help everyone.” Marlene’s slim fingers circled her glass. “It wasn’t that way for us. Perhaps it would have been different if I had grown up here. Dillon’s memories of Elms Fork aren’t all good. If I wasn’t here, he never would have returned once he left for college.”
“Just like I wouldn’t have returned if Granddad hadn’t gotten sick,” Samantha murmured.
Marlene’s smile was sad. “You both needed a reason to return permanently to the place that holds so many unhappy memories. You found yours. Given time, Dillon will find his.”
“What if he doesn’t?” Samantha asked, aware that she sounded desperate.
“Then, just as I did you’ll have to decide which is more important, accepting what he can give you or walking away. For me, I already have enough regrets.” Marlene came to her feet. “I better check the food.”
“I’m not as brave as you are.”
Marlene opened the top of the grill. Hickory smells and smoke wafted upward as she removed the chicken breasts and vegetables. “I’ll admit, when you first came here, perhaps. But you’re not the same woman anymore. You stood up to Evan and Dillon. Don’t sell yourself short.”
True, Samantha thought, but risking heartbreak was an entirely different matter.
Roman rounded the corner of the house. “Just in time to help.” Marlene’s gaze dropped to his hands. He chuckled. “I washed them at the sink in the garage.”
“Please take a seat.” Marlene picked up the platter. “You’re going to be up to your wrists in soil very shortly.”
Roman took the stoneware from her. “And you’ve worked all day, then grilled, and stayed up late to bake a cake from scratch since I kept you out late.”
“You know, you can be pushy,” Marlene said, but she began putting the meat on the platter.
“And you have no problem putting me in my place,” he answered.
Samantha watched the interchange with interest. It was easy to see they cared about and respected each other. Marlene had taken a chance, and it had paid off. She might have regrets later, but she’d also have good memories and know that she hadn’t let fear rule her. Samantha had to decide if the possible pleasure outweighed the possible pain.
* * *
Shortly after nine that night, Dillon pulled up behind Roman’s car and honked his horn. Climbing out, he stretched his arms over his head. He and Ricky, his head mechanic, had worked hard to get the husband’s Ferrari back in shape.
Before he’d even looked at it, Dillon had told the woman to lose his phone number. He could understand once, but not twice. Sneaking around wasn’t the way for any marriage to last. Crying, she had promised she wouldn’t drive it without permission again. Somehow, Dillon didn’t believe her.
It was her problem now. He had problems of his own. At the top of that short list was Sam. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had let her down. He wanted her, but not if it meant helping run Collins. He had his own life.
Using the key, he let himself into the house through the front door. His mother was playing the piano while Roman, arm braced on the top, gazed down at her.
Dillon wondered if they’d heard the horn. “I’m home.”
“Hi, Dillon,” his mother greeted him.
Roman waved and went back to staring at Dillon’s mother as if he’d never get enough.
What happened to her watching him eat? he mused as he continued on to the kitchen. There was no food on the stove or on the countertop. He glanced at the table and saw a note with his name on it propped up against a crystal salt shaker. He recognized the lilac stationery as his mother’s. Thinking she’d left instructions about warming the food or where to find it, he opened the envelope and pulled out the note.
Please come to the guest cottage. I’ll be waiting.
Samantha
All of the reasoning he’d been doing that day took a backseat to the sudden burst of joy. They still had a chance.
Shoving the note into his jeans pocket, he headed out of the kitchen. “Mama, I need to go out. I’m not sure when I’ll be back,” he called as he hurried through the living room.
“Drive carefully,” his mother called, but he was already closing the door.
* * *
Marlene’s hands paused over the keys as soon as she heard Dillon’s car motor fire up. “I hope they can work it out.”
“They will if how fast he left is any indication,” Roman said.
“Dillon can be stubborn.”
“I wonder where he got that from?” Roman said, the corners of his mouth tilted into a smile.
Marlene lifted a brow. “That coming from a man who kept badgering me when I said no.”
Chuckling, Roman sat beside her on the bench, his back to the piano. “Giving up wasn’t an option.” His hand cupped her face tenderly. “Once I saw you, there was no turning back. Kissing you sealed it for me.”
Lowering his head, he brushed his lips across hers, once, twice, then settled.
Marlene was trembling by the time he lifted his head. She felt the same way, but she had reached out once for what she wanted and regretted it ever since. With unsteady hands, she started playing the piano again.
* * *
The drive to the guest cottage took the longest five minutes of Dillon’s life. Her note could mean she wanted to talk business or put both of them out of their misery and fall into the nearest bed.
Turning into the driveway, he shifted gears and became aware of the engine’s noise. The only lights were those on the third floor. He distinctly remembered the landscape lights being on when he’d picked Sam up for their business dinner. It could be a coincidence or …
Switching off his lights, he let his eyes adjust to the darkness and drove around the side of the house. He parked off to the side, then got out and followed the path to the guest cottage a hundred feet behind the garage.
He’d barely knocked before the door opened. She wore a dress that bared her exquisite shoulders and stopped above her incredible knees. His mouth dried.
“Please come in
.”
Somehow he got his legs to move. He closed the door behind him.
“Thank you for coming.” She bit her lips, started toward the small kitchen in back. “I know you probably haven’t eaten. Marlene sent tons of food.”
He caught her arm, felt her tremble, then caught her other arm. “Are you all right?”
“That depends on you.”
“Is Evan on your case again?” he snarled.
“No. Thanks to you I can stand up to him and not feel guilty.”
“Then why are you trembling?”
“Don’t you know?”
His hands flexed on hers, afraid to hope that what he saw in her eyes was desire. “Maybe you should lay it out for me.”
“I’ll take you for as long as you want me.” She leaned against him, her arms going around his waist. “Life has no guarantees. I know that better than anyone. I don’t want to waste another minute. I want us to be lovers.” She lifted her head. “Is that plain enough?”
Dillon dragged her to him, his lips finding hers. His mouth moved to burn a path to her shoulders and met the top of her dress. He pulled it down and moaned on seeing her bare breasts. If he kissed her there, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop until he’d made her his again. He picked her up.
“First door on the left.”
He didn’t waste time getting them to the queen-sized bed. Setting her on her feet, he peeled the dress from her exquisite body. He got harder and hotter as inch by incredible inch, she was revealed to him. He accepted that he’d never get tired of looking at her.
She grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and tugged it over his head, then made short work of his pants. Together they fell into the bed, their mouths locked again in a heated kiss as they touched and tasted each other.
His mouth and teeth closed over her taut nipple. She arched against him. Her hands held him to her as he suckled her, then he moved to the other breast. She twisted restlessly beneath him.
His hand drifted down her body and found her wet and ready. Lifting upward, he sheathed himself and then brought them together. The fit was tight, exquisite. He thrust again and again into her satin heat. She met him stroke for stroke.
Whimpering moans of pleasure slipped past her lips. Or were they his?